


Consummation Of Blood

by HotMolasses



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Frotting, M/M, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:19:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10774581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotMolasses/pseuds/HotMolasses
Summary: Will’s eyes darted to meet Hannibal’s again.“I hate him.” Will said.  “I want to destroy him.  When I close my eyes, I see myself doing it.”Hannibal daren’t move.“How will you do it, Will?” he whispered.“With the knife you gave me, I will slash his throat.  His blood, pouring over my face as he falls to his knees.  Oh, God.”Will started to tremble.  Hannibal reached out and clasped his face in his hands, cupping both of his cheeks.  The gesture wasn’t unfamiliar to them; he had held Will in such a way before.  But this time Will didn’t just allow it—he leaned into it, pressing his face into Hannibal’s palms and closing his eyes.“What have you awakened in me?” he whispered, and Hannibal felt the world disappearing; none of it mattering at all except for what was clasped between his fingers.“Are you glad that I have?”Will’s eyes flew open and burned into him.“Yes.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work would not be possible without the lovely [victorineb](https://victorineb.tumblr.com/) and her amazing beta skills!  
> Also come visit me at my tumblr at [evenunevenme](http://evenunevenme.tumblr.com/) ! Leave a comment or come talk to me over there, either way let me know what you think!

              Hannibal gently inhaled the aroma of the local rosé as he lounged on the back porch.  Their view of the Provence countryside was stunning; rolling hills that melded into lavender farms far off, the setting sun shining golden over the purple blossoms as they swayed in the breeze.

              Two months, he had lived here now with Will.  Three months since they had slain the Dragon together.  Will spoke of it frequently, which had Hannibal pleasantly surprised.  He leaned back in the lounge chair, closed his eyes, and reminisced.

              The trudging of Will’s waders up the hill snapped him from his repose.  The sound was unmistakable; _squish, squish, squish_ , followed by the padding of four paws behind him.  Harold, Will had named the dog.  They’d been settled for a scant three days when Will brought him home.

                Hannibal opened his eyes in the fading light and smiled when he saw Will, with his pole and tackle box in one hand, trudging an overflowing bucket in the other.

              “Another successful catch, I see.” Hannibal said, rising to his feet.  Will plodded across the patio and up the steps of the porch, depositing the bucket unceremoniously on the outdoor table.

              “You don’t _have_ to cook it, Hannibal.”

              “Ah, but I desire to.  There is nothing as beautiful to a chef as fresh ingredients, and there is nothing more fresh than still alive.”

              He saw Will’s larynx bob with his thick, deliberate swallow, a reaction that pricked the corners of Hannibal’s lips in an upturned smile.

              “You enjoy watching me cook your catches.”

              Their eyes met over the table and Will held his gaze, the way he often did, now.  Held it steady and strong, a thousand unsaid words passing between them before he finally replied.

              “You have an unmistakable way with knives, Dr. Lecter.” he said.  The tone of his voice sent a flush of heat down Hannibal’s spine and he had to take a moment to gather himself.  There had never been anyone who affected him to as deep a level as did Will Graham, and he was drunk on it.

              “I shall begin preparing dinner.  Why don’t you wash up?” Hannibal said, his voice as even as he could make it, but he knew Will was able to detect the tiniest fluctuation.  It unnerved him and made him warm at the same time.

              The sounds of Will and his dog clomping through the house while he cooked were inexplicably comforting.  The pan hissed as Hannibal dripped oil into it, letting it warm up while he chopped the scallions, the gutted fish spread on the cutting board beside him.  He heard Will turn the shower on, then turned at the sound of the click-clack of Harold’s paws as he lumbered across the kitchen floor to his bowl.

              “Remind me to tell Will to trim your nails.” Hannibal said, scraping the scallions into the cream base for the sauce.  Harold wagged his tail.

              While Hannibal had never explicitly demanded that Will join him for dinner every night, he had never missed a meal.  They ate fish often, as Will went fishing quite frequently, though Hannibal didn’t mind.  He had enough recipes to last them at least a year before he’d have to repeat a dish.  Normally dinner was accompanied by conversation, but for the past week, it had been scarce.

              “You’ve been more quiet than usual.  Is something on your mind, Will?” Hannibal asked as casually as he could, even knowing that it was futile, as Will would see through any mask he might attempt to wear.

              “There’s always things on my mind.” he said simply, cutting into his fish with perfect manners, not a drop of sauce getting on his lips as he ate.  Hannibal found himself staring a little longer than he’d intended.

              “I would hope you still feel comfortable sharing your thoughts with me.” Hannibal said, the task of trying to pry open Will Graham’s mind a familiar one, even as it was no less challenging.

              Will gave a short snort and the corner of his mouth upturned.

              “What are you afraid might be going on inside my head, Dr. Lecter?” he teased, and Hannibal found himself uncomfortably scrambling to regain his footing, as Will hit a deep nerve that he hadn’t even been aware was exposed.  As was typical of him.

              “I am merely concerned with your adjustment to life in France.” he stated simply.  “Whether you are content.”

              Will put down his utensils and Hannibal watched him contemplate that.  His thinking was so in depth that Hannibal dared not interrupt, ceasing to eat himself while he waited for the response.  He hadn’t expected to engage Will quite so easily this early on in the conversation, and then had to remind himself that Will doing what Hannibal did not expect was exactly why he was enraptured with him.

              “Content.” Will said, mulling the word over in his mind.  “I’m not… _dis_ content.” he finally replied.  Hannibal frowned.

              “Please, tell me how I can improve things for you.” he said, aware that this was the closest he would ever be able to come to begging, and feeling uncomfortable because of it.

              “I just need time to think, Hannibal.” Will said, and Hannibal could practically hear the slamming of the mental door Will had just closed, ending the conversation.

              But he had used Hannibal’s first name, which was enough of a morsel to keep Hannibal on the cheerier side while he cleaned up dinner. 

 

              For the third night in a row, Hannibal awoke to hearing Will’s footsteps as he left his room and walked down the stairs, followed by the thump-thump-thump of Harold’s tail as he trailed after him.  Torn between curiosity and the desire to give him privacy, Hannibal had forced himself to stay in his own room and simply listen as he heard Will open the door to the study downstairs and then remain there, for hours upon hours each night.  He stayed for so long at his task this time that Hannibal found himself dozing, then outright falling asleep, awakened again when Will finally walked back up the stairs at half-past three. 

              When Hannibal awoke at his usual time around seven, he knew he’d have the house to himself for several hours.  Normally he spent it admiring the view from the porch, or cooking breakfast, or drawing.  This morning however his curiosity had gotten the best of him and he was in the study, his eyes searching for whatever it was Will had been doing there the night before.  He looked for anything at all that was out of place, his eyes falling to the pen on the desk that was not replaced in a pen holder.

              A smile quirked up at the corner of his mouth as he walked over and picked it up, moving it to where it belonged.  He then began opening the drawers in the desk, searching for whatever it was Will had been writing on.

              He found nothing, so then began to search the bookshelves, carefully peering behind the books, looking for a place where they weren’t pushed back quite all the way.  He found it on the shelf beside the painting of the sailboat, which made him smile warmly.  Of course. 

              He quietly pulled the books off the shelf, revealing a spiral notebook with the corners well-worn and misaligned pages.  He took it and walked over to the desk, where it nearly fell apart upon his opening it, so well-turned were the pages.

              It was full of newspaper clippings, all taped haphazardly to the pages, with notes in Will’s handwriting scrawled in the margins.

              “Bar Fight Leaves Three Dead”, “Two Hookers Murdered: No Witnesses”, “Marseille Sees Rise In Drug Overdose Deaths”.  Parts of each article were underlined, with lines and arrows connecting them across several different pages, until Hannibal turned to a map of the streets of Marseille.  He slowly sat in the chair at the desk, enthralled by Will’s work, poring over the clues he’d been putting together, trying to see what he saw.

              On the map were dots with dates and times, each leading back to one of the articles, and Will’s notes scrawled along the lines.  _Single stab wound or several? Connection to Dubois? He likes to make them watch._

Hannibal became enthralled, his eyes drinking in the work that Will had clearly been doing for weeks; nearly the entire time they’d lived in France.  He was connecting murders that appeared to have no links, attributing them to a single killer that he’d dubbed “The Watcher”, where the police only saw random deaths, some of which were deemed accidental.  He had a full-fleshed profile, including theories about the killer’s childhood, neighborhood, profession and even relatives. 

              He’d narrowed down where he lived to a two-block area and even had a schedule of when and where he was most likely to target his next kill.

              On the last page, circles so many times that the pen had worn a rut nearly through the paper, Will had written _Report him?_

              Hannibal stared at the words for so long that their after-image began to glow behind them on the page.  He then slowly, carefully closed the book, replacing all the clippings where he’d found them, and left it on the desk.

             

              When Will woke up just past noon, Hannibal kept his usual routine, offering him coffee and then a selection of sliced fruit and pastries for brunch.  When Harold click-clacked his way into the kitchen Hannibal tilted his head towards the sound and raised an eyebrow.

              “I know, I know, I’ll cut his nails today.” Will said.  “Did you get the paper?”

              Hannibal nodded and turned just a bit too slowly towards it, picking up the paper just a tad too deliberately, with just enough purpose that Will gave him an odd look as he reached out and took it with one hand, half a roll stuck in his mouth.

              Will took it and then bit down, pulling the roll from his mouth as he chewed.  He opened the paper and began thumbing through it, Hannibal’s eyes never leaving his face.  Hannibal burned his gaze into him, and to his credit, Will ignored him for quite a good while, setting down his roll to take a sip of his coffee, making a show out of reading every single word on the page.

              When it became clear Will was not going to crack, Hannibal lost his patience.

              “Anything in there about The Watcher?” he said, picking up his own toast and spreading jam on it, finally removing his eyes from Will.

              He heard the faintest, softest, almost inaudible sigh.

              “How long have you known?”

              “Just since this morning.”

              The snort that escaped Will’s nose indicated he had no confidence in the honesty of that reply.

              “Truthfully.  I didn’t find your notebook until this morning.”

              Will set the paper on the counter and folded it closed slowly, his eyes much too interested in the photo on the cover of some politician screaming over a podium.

              “I wasn’t _exactly_ trying to keep it a secret.” he said.  “Or I would have hidden it better.”

              “Yet you did not feel the compulsion to disclose to me your thoughts.  Why?”

              Will snorted and rolled his eyes.

              “You’re not my psychiatrist.  I don’t need to _disclose_ anything to you.”  
              “You certainly don’t.” Hannibal said, finishing spreading the jam on his piece of toast.  He picked up another piece and began to coat it.  “However you and I have always benefitted from conversations with each other in the past.”

              Will outright rolled his eyes at that one.

              “ _Benefitted_ is a strong word, Hannibal.”

              “We’re here, aren’t we?”

              That made Will pause, and he shifted on the barstool while he distracted himself with another sip of coffee, before staring out the window into the back yard and their beautiful view beyond.

              “What exactly are we doing, Hannibal?”

              Hannibal gave the slightest tilt of his head, which for him was a gesture equivalent to a shrug.

              “Living in a lovely house in the countryside of France.”

              Will nearly reeled as he turned his head from the window to glare.

              “You _know_ what I’m asking.”

              “Do I?”

              Hannibal met his steel gaze with an equally hard stare.  Their eyes locked and neither moved for a long moment, and Hannibal knew that Will’s stubbornness would prevent him from being the one to break the silence.  So he did it for him.

              “Why haven’t you reported The Watcher to the police, Will?”

              Will tore his gaze away and started to pace, his hands on his hips in a manner that Hannibal knew meant he was getting under his skin.  A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

              “Because, I dunno, we’re on the run from the law?”

              He was skirting.

              “An anonymous tip, then.  An unmarked letter, telling the police what you’ve uncovered.”

              “Like they’d believe me.”

              “They might.”

              “You don’t know that.”

              “No.  But you haven’t even tried.”

              Will stopped his pacing at the window and pressed his palm to his forehead, then dragged it down his face.  He didn’t reply.

              Hannibal left his own bar stool then and walked closer to him, pausing when he was only a foot behind him, encroaching upon his personal space to see what he would do.

              He didn’t move.

              “Why haven’t you reported him, Will?” he asked again, his voice much softer, yet firmer in his tone.

              Will shook his head and blinked several times in a manner that Hannibal hadn’t seen him do since his days with encephalitis.

              “What are you fighting, Will?” Hannibal asked softly, bringing his hand up to place it tentatively on Will’s shoulder.  He had, for the most part, kept from touching Will since they’d healed from their injuries, knowing that he needed space to figure out where he stood.

              Will turned his head slightly, enough so that he could see Hannibal’s pinky in his peripheral vision, but not far enough to see Hannibal’s face.

              “I want to kill him.” he said, the admission spoken with more certainty than Hannibal had expected.  Clearly _that_ wasn’t what it was that had Will trapped in indecision, and this realization sent a jolt through Hannibal so powerful that it manifested in a twitch of the fingers that rested upon Will’s shoulder.

              “Then why haven’t you?” he asked simply, utterly lost in the mind that was Will Graham, all the reasons for Will having hid his desire from him suddenly not what he thought they were.

              “Because we’re in _hiding_!  The last thing we need are the police after us again, when we _just_ got settled!”

              Hannibal’s grip on Will’s shoulder became fierce.  He pushed, turning Will to face him, his face direly serious as fire flashed in his eyes.

              “Will.  In case you have forgotten, I am quite experienced in evading police.”

              He trapped Will’s gaze and they remained that way, staring into each other’s faces, the only sound between them their breath, Hannibal’s hand remaining clasped on Will’s shoulder.  Will inhaled slowly and wet his lips with his tongue.

              “Help me murder him, Hannibal.” Will said, his voice certain, his eyes burning with determination.  The smile that had been tickling the corner of Hannibal’s mouth since he’d discovered Will’s notebook finally bloomed fully on his face.

              “With pleasure.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

             “How certain are you that he frequents this all-night café?” Hannibal asked, walking over to the third bulletin board that they had set up in the study, all of Will’s notes spread across them, now.

              “Very certain.” Will said, nodding to show his emphasis.  “Three of his victims have been patrons there.  He does some of his hunting there.  Maybe even most of it.” 

              “Then that is where we shall observe him.” Hannibal said, removing one of the articles from the cork board to stare at a photo of the café front.  “We’ll rent a room in Marseille, in the area you’ve determined he hunts, and become frequent patrons of this café ourselves.  We’ll learn his habits until we understand our prey well enough to know when it is safe to strike.”

              Will remained still as he sat on the edge of the armchair, his eyes gazing at nothing as his mind worked.  Hannibal paused and waited for him to bring his thoughts to completion, not wanting to prod his direction any more than was necessary to keep him moving forward.

              “Hunting.” Will finally said, his eyes flicking up to Hannibal’s face.  “We’re hunting.”

              The tone he used was reverent, his voice soft and almost unbelieving.  Hannibal lowered the paper he was holding to the desk and gave Will his full attention.

              “How does that make you feel, Will?”

              Will snorted and a smile pricked at the corner of his mouth.

              “Does it excite you, that I’m enjoying this?  That you’ve finally managed to twist me into being the killer you want me to be?”

              “I never wanted to twist you, Will.  Merely to free you.”

              Will rose to his feet and took the few steps to close the distance between them, until they were face-to-face.  His eyes searched Hannibal’s face, and he desperately wished to know what it was he was looking for so that he could provide it for him.

              “Consider me freed.” he said.  “Rent us a room in Marseille, Hannibal.”

              “Done.” Hannibal said.  With that, Will turned and left, the sound of his footsteps, followed by Harold’s, fading up the staircase as he headed to his room.

              It took Hannibal more than five minutes to move as he continually replayed the conversation in his head, unbelieving still that Will had accepted his offer to rent _a_ room.  Singular.

              There was absolutely no reason for them to not have rented two.

              Hannibal had a very difficult time falling asleep that night.  He hadn’t looked forward this much to the future for a long, long time.

 

              Hannibal instructed Will to pack as lightly as he could to last two weeks, arranged for a sitter to come take care of the dog while they were gone, and met him in the garage with a single black duffel bag that clinked when he tossed it in the trunk.  He was also wearing a pair of faded jeans that Will had never seen and a nondescript green polo shirt with short sleeves.

              Will raised an eyebrow at him as he got into the car.

              “I am fully adaptable to any circumstance.” Hannibal replied.  “Part of police evasion is blending in to your surroundings.”

              Will didn’t comment as Hannibal drove them along the winding country road to the train station, where they would leave the comfort of his Mercedes for public transportation.  They waited silently on the bench with their two bags and neither spoke until they were settled on the train, Hannibal gazing out the window at the countryside as it flew past them.

              “How many times I sat upon trains, wishing you were with me.” he said simply.  “And here you are.”

              “Going to do what you’ve always dreamed of doing with me?” Will asked, and though there was bite to his words, it wasn’t as strong as it could have been.  Hannibal tilted his head and gave him a small nod.

              “Do you deny you are looking forward to this?”

              Will gave a quick half-smile that vanished almost instantly, then turned to look out the window to avoid looking into Hannibal’s eyes.

              “No.”

              The hotel closest to the neighborhood where they needed to be was possibly the most run-down, dingy hotel in France.  The clerk sat behind a desk actually enclosed by metal bars, the smoke from his cigar causing a haze at the ceiling at least a foot thick.

              “Twenty Euros per hour, two hour minimum.” he said without looking up from the small TV on his cluttered desk.

              “How much for two weeks?” Hannibal asked.  The clerk turned to look at them, then.  His eyes flicked from Hannibal to Will, then raked down Will’s body and back up to his face, before returning to Hannibal, who was holding out a wad of cash.  Hannibal bristled inwardly but kept his focus.  Nothing was going to deter him from giving Will exactly what he wanted.

              “Three thousand.”

              Hannibal counted off three thousand Euros, then counted off five hundred more.

              “For not remembering we were here.”

              The clerk gave Hannibal a grin and took the cash eagerly, counting it to himself three times before putting most of it into the drawer, the rest in his pocket.

              “Room seventeen.” he said, sliding a key into the metal tray under the grate.  Hannibal took it and gave the clerk a wink before picking up his bag and walking towards the stairs.

              The scent of the hallway was reminiscent of many crime scenes they’d inspected together; the stale smell of bodily fluids dried too long in uncirculated air, moldy carpets and dusty lamps.  The sounds of the rooms they passed were no better, and Hannibal watched Will set his jaw as he tried to tune it out.  Hannibal had to jostle the key a few times before it successfully opened the door, and when he finally got it Will stepped through a little too quickly, pushing his way in and slamming the door behind them.

              “I know these aren’t the most comfortable accommodations.” Hannibal said matter-of-factly, setting his bag on the one armchair in the room and unzipping it.  “But it is the place least likely to leave us any witnesses.  We cannot be remembered, if you would like to stay in France.”

              Will nodded once, curtly, his jaw set and his gaze trained on a stain in the wall.

              “We belong here.” he said, while Hannibal went to work stripping the bed, pulling out an unopened set of brand-new sheets from his duffel bag to pull over the dingy, queen-sized mattress. 

              “What makes you say such a derogatory thing, Will?” Hannibal asked, replacing the pillow cases with brand-new white ones.  Blending in was one thing; sleeping uncomfortably was another.

              “This is a place for hookers and drug dealers and criminals, which is exactly what we are.” he said.  “We’re here because we’re going to murder someone.”

              Hannibal paused for a moment, tilted his head, gave a slight nod, then continued making the bed.

              “If you desire to leave, just say the word.”

              “No.”

              Hannibal straightened and walked towards Will, a powerful purpose in his step with the intention of making Will back away.  He did no such thing, so that when Hannibal finally stopped he was inches from his face, their eyes burning into each other.  He lifted his fingers up slowly, not because of hesitation, but so as to give Will plenty of chance to move away, so that when he did not, it was clear he’d allowed himself to be put in this position.

              Hannibal’s palm came to rest on Will’s cheek and he leaned forward almost until their noses brushed.

              “You are more committed to this task than I had even hoped.” he said softly, his heart beating more strongly than he was used to.

              Will stared fiercely into Hannibal’s eyes, a tumult of unreadable emotions on his face. 

              “That might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Will said.  “Are you daring to show me your true self, Hannibal Lecter?”

              The breath of his voice washed over Hannibal’s face and he closed his eyes to inhale the scent.  His hand on Will’s cheek curled ever so slightly, making him clasp Will’s face tighter, and Will made no effort to move away.  When he opened his eyes again Will was there, staring back at him, unblinking.

              “I have always let you see a part of myself.”

              “But only a part.” Will retorted, still unmoving, his hands infuriatingly calm at his sides.  “I want to see it _all_.”

              Hannibal’s exhale was powerful and the tilt of his lips forward miniscule, but Will saw it anyway.

              “Did you want something, Dr. Lecter?” Will taunted, tipping his head ever so slightly to the side.  “Something more than watching me rend a man’s flesh from his body?”

              Hannibal’s hand trembled upon his cheek with the effort of keeping composure.  He already had everything he wanted, he told himself.  He could restrain himself at least this much.  But then Will let his tongue emerge and licked it over his lips, first to one side, then the other, and Hannibal was unable to prevent the flick of his eyes as they moved to watch.

              “You’ve never been one to deny yourself, why the sudden hesitation?” Will whispered.  “Take what you want.”

              Will’s declaration that he saw what Hannibal wanted was enough.

              The press of their lips was so soft at first he barely felt it.  They merely brushed, and that was all, then he pulled back, testing Will’s reaction.  When Will remained where he was and in fact tilted his head, Hannibal returned, touching their lips together again.  He was soft, and warm, the barest of kisses upon moist flesh, until Will leaned forward and pushed them closer.

              Hannibal’s heart gave a jump that he almost couldn’t hide.  He had never expected this.  Hoped for it, maybe; but not expected it.  When Will parted his mouth, seeking him, wanting him, he fell too easily into it, his lips moving back with an eagerness that almost bordered on embarrassing.  Then Will exhaled and Hannibal was lost; the scent of him permeating through his nose and down his throat, drowning him in it.

              He tilted his head further and Will accepted.  He slid the hand on Will’s cheek to clasp his hair behind his head and the motion was welcomed with an open mouth and languid tongue that emerged to lick over Hannibal’s lips.  Hannibal’s eyes closed against his will and it was all he could do to remain standing as his world became nothing but Will Graham.  Will’s tongue was warm and certain, pushing its way into Hannibal’s mouth, even as he knew what that mouth could do.

              Hannibal abandoned pretenses and pressed their lips together forcefully, licking over Will’s tongue, tasting him, savoring him.  Excitement sparked its way down his spine and brought a flush to his cheeks as if he were a schoolboy, and his reaction was to lift his free hand to Will’s hip and pull him closer.  Will came, wrapping his hands around Hannibal’s back, and then gave a soft, melodious groan that undid Hannibal completely.

              He had to pull away before he pushed Will up against the wall with force.  They panted, each short of breath as they rested their foreheads against each other, Hannibal’s fingers tangled in Will’s hair.

              “That was…unexpected.” Hannibal said, pulling away and standing up straight, his fingertips on Will’s cheek the last thing between them to break contact.  Will remained still and traced his eyes over Hannibal’s form, making his cheeks burn in a way that shouldn’t have been possible.  He straightened his collar.

              “Do you regret it?” Will asked.

              “Hardly.”

              The response was much too quick for his liking.  He saw a smirk alight on Will’s face because of it. 

               Hannibal cleared his throat and returned to making the room more comfortable for them, spraying disinfectant over the surfaces in the bathroom and deodorizer over the stained comforter, knowing that he was trying his _hardest_ to remain composed and couldn’t quite accomplish it.

              When he had finished that he reached into the bag and pulled out two folding hunting knives, handing one to Will.

              “I doubt we’ll be ready to use them for our intended purpose so soon, but in this neighborhood, some protection might be required.”

              Will met his eyes while he took it from him, making sure to let his fingers linger over Hannibal’s for a bit too long before slipping the knife into his pocket.

              “You are going to destroy me.” Hannibal said.

              “Now that would be a shame.” Will replied.  “I need you to help me destroy someone else.”

             

* * *

 

              The café was not as run down as Hannibal had expected, given the neighborhood they were in.  The staff was courteous and the dishes were clean, even if what was on them could hardly pass for food.  But it was easy to make such sacrifices to see what beauty Will would create, when they found his prey.  The thought alone brought a flutter to Hannibal’s veins that he rarely felt.  This excursion was going to be exquisite.

              “This pie isn’t half bad.  You should try it.” Will teased, taking a grotesquely large forkful of unrecognizable brown glop and shoving it into his mouth.

              “You enjoy torturing me.”

              Will grinned.

              Hannibal leaned back against the uncomfortable seat and turned the page in his book.  The patrons here were as expected; people who were either seedy or poor, or both.  Hannibal had his back to most of them, across the table from Will, who had chosen a seat from which he could observe the entire café.  He also had a book in front of him, though his attention wasn’t on it.  He slouched, his hair was mussed and his shirt was ruffled, and he looked exactly the part of a tired, run-down café patron.  To any passers-by he would be absolutely unmemorable.

              “What do you intend to do, once you spot who you’re looking for?” Hannibal asked casually, ignoring the rumbling of his empty stomach.  He was going to have to sacrifice his principles and eat something from here eventually, but he wasn’t ready yet.

              “Observe.” Will said simply, taking a sip of his burnt coffee, and _enjoying_ it. 

              Affection could make a man put up with incredible things.

              “Looking for anything in particular?”

              “Habits.” Will stated, scraping his fork against the plate as he tried to get as much of the ‘pie’ onto it as possible.  “Repetitious behavior; a vulnerability to exploit.”

              Hannibal’s heart beat a bit faster, as once again he found himself feeling _excited_.  It was a dangerous thing to be feeling, but he found himself unable to control it.

              He leaned in over the table, so that their faces were close and spoke softly.

              “Once you have every bit of information you require and are ready to make a move, what do you plan to do?” Hannibal asked. 

              Will turned his eyes from the patrons and snapped them to meet Hannibal’s gaze.  It sent a jolt down Hannibal’s spine and his breath caught in his throat.

              “I’m going to make him dead.” Will said.  “Is that what you want to hear me say?”

              Hannibal swallowed thickly.  A sly smile spread its way across Will’s lips, accenting the fact that it was uneven with the scar on his cheek, now.

              “It is.” Will said softly.  “How does that make you feel, Dr. Lecter?” Will said, his voice low and thick.

              Hannibal was at a loss for words, and even found himself a little dizzy.  It was frightening.

              “If I have to eat at establishments such as this to sustain myself daily for the rest of my life, I will do so, in order to get a taste of a tenth of this feeling.” he said.  He had the pleasure of watching a blush spring to Will’s cheeks.

              A grey skirt interrupted his peripheral vision, and Hannibal turned his head away from the beautiful sight in front of him to peer up at the waitress.

              “Sorry for the long wait.  Shorthanded.” she said, holding her pencil over a small notepad.  “What are you having?”

              “I’ll have a salad, please.” Hannibal said, knowing the vegetables would be far from fresh, but it involved no cooking and would perhaps be edible.

              “Dressing?”

              “None, thank you.”

              “Okay.  And for your boyfriend?”

              The blush on Will’s cheeks bloomed even pinker, and Hannibal found himself enjoying that reaction much more than he thought he would have.

              His mind returned to the kiss they had shared.  It would seem his relationship with Will Graham was changing in a direction he hadn’t predicted.  As usual, Will was surprising him in the most pleasant of ways.

              He took the opportunity to reach across the table and pull Will’s hands into his own.  Will still hadn’t responded, and it occurred to Hannibal that his French might be…

              “I’ll have sausage cassoulet with a side of potatoes.” he said in _perfect_ , Louisiana-accented French **.**

“Ah, an American.” she said.  “He’s cute, too.  You’re very lucky.” she said to Hannibal with a wink as she walked back towards the kitchen.

              “Hannibal, you’re staring.”

              He was indeed, and Will pointing it out to him did not make him stop.

              He was also very, very aware that Will had _not_ pulled his hands away, and they were still clasped in Hannibal’s fingers over the table.

              “I have never had the pleasure of hearing your French before.” he said.  “And it was delightful.”

              Will shrugged.

              “I haven’t heard this much French since I was in high school.” he said.  “It’s bringing back a lot of memories, actually.”

              They spent the next several hours talking about Will’s memories of high school, interjected with Will’s snide remarks about how Hannibal _really wasn’t_ his psychiatrist anymore. Will then prodded Hannibal for stories from his own school days, and he found himself easily retelling more than he’d bargained for, reminiscing the way he had once done with Bedelia, though he felt Will’s interest was far more sincere than hers had ever been.

              It was at half past one in the morning that Will’s sentence drifted off, unfinished, and Hannibal had to resist the need to turn and look for himself.

              “You see him.” he stated.

              Will nodded.

              “I’m certain.  For the past half hour I wasn’t sure.  But it’s him.”

               Hannibal couldn’t see what Will was looking at, and so he observed Will, watching the light in his eyes change slowly from lighthearted to burning hatred.

              “Tell me what you are seeing, Will.” Hannibal asked, his voice hushed, almost in awe.  He stared at Will’s forehead, trying to imagine the workings of the mind behind it, able to see the part of Will that he loved most bloom before him.

              “I wear an old, faded coat, but I keep it clean.  This serves two purposes; one is to wash out the blood, the other is to keep people around me at ease.  I want them near; I need to observe them, watch them, in order to decide which of them I will choose next.  In order for my making them watch to have its full effect, the relationship between them must be just right.  They must know each other, and care to some extent about each other, but they can’t love each other deeply.  I tried that once and they fought too hard to try to save each other.  I can’t make that mistake again.  I need acquaintances who will hurt, but not fight.  This is my design.”

              Hannibal found himself leaning forward with each utterance from Will’s lips, enraptured by every word that fell from his mouth.  He’d had the luxury of watching Will reconstruct the mind of a killer on a few occasions—but not nearly enough.  His heart was beating hard in his chest and his fingers were clutching the napkin in front of him.

              Will’s eyes darted to meet Hannibal’s again.

              “I hate him.” Will said.  “I want to destroy him.  When I close my eyes, I see myself doing it.”

              Hannibal daren’t move.

              “How will you do it, Will?” he whispered.

              “With the knife you gave me, I will slash his throat.  His blood, pouring over my face as he falls to his knees.  Oh, God.”

              Will started to tremble.  Hannibal reached out and clasped his face in his hands, cupping both of his cheeks.  The gesture wasn’t unfamiliar to them; he had held Will in such a way before.  But this time Will didn’t just allow it—he leaned into it, pressing his face into Hannibal’s palms and closing his eyes.

              “What have you awakened in me?” he whispered, and Hannibal felt the world disappearing; none of it mattering at all except for what was clasped between his fingers.

              “Are you glad that I have?”

              Will’s eyes flew open and burned into him.

              “Yes.”


	3. Chapter 3

              Will observed his prey for the full hour and ten minutes that he sat at the diner, watching him interact with the waitress, whom he seemed to like. 

              _His prey_.

              Each time the thought struck him, a wave of calm pleasantness flowed through him.  This man was going to get what he deserved, and Will was going to be the one to give it to him.  He felt a surge of power and a sense of pleasure at the idea.  Things he’d _always_ felt; but now, he was going to give life to them.

              But tonight was not the night.  Will’s prey hadn’t chosen a victim tonight, but simply paid for his meal and left in peace.  Perhaps tomorrow.

              They waited another ten minutes after that before leaving, not wanting to leave any hints in anyone’s mind to connect them to their target.  Hannibal paid and the waitress gave Will a wink as they walked out, which sent a blush straight to his ears.

              It didn’t fade, even during the three-block walk in the brisk night air back to their room.  The hotel was even livelier at night; every room seemed to be taken and nobody was here to sleep.  It was just as well; they would be better off to be awake at night and sleeping during the day for the duration of this hunt.

              This hunt.

              Will swallowed thickly as Hannibal shut the door softly behind them and clicked both locks closed. 

              “Would you deem this reconnaissance mission a success?” he asked, walking towards the nightstand where he removed his coat and inexpensive watch.

              “Very much so.” Will said, taking off his own jacket and tossing it over the back of the faded armchair.  Hannibal sat on the bed and began to untie his shoes while Will kicked his sneakers off with his feet.  “Now it’s just a matter of waiting.  I want to strike on the night he does.  Catch him just as he is about to succeed, when he feels he is at his most powerful, and then show him he’s not.”

              Will didn’t miss the uptick at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth.  He rose to his feet again and faced Will.

              “You do realize the irony of this desire.”

              “It isn’t lost on me.” Will said.  “I also don’t care.”

              Hannibal didn’t exactly lick his lips, but he might as well have.  Will could read his almost motionless expressions perfectly now.  His heart beat faster and he let his eyes fall to those lips, his feet moving as he was drawn closer.  Hannibal’s hands rose up to embrace him, their lips meeting eagerly, the blush that had followed Will down the street returning to burn all the way to his ears.  He felt Hannibal’s body close to him, his normal barrier of thick, expensive clothing no longer in the way, nothing but two thin shirts between them.

              He was solid.  The muscles beneath his skin were apparent as Will leaned into him, pressing their chests together.  The heat from Hannibal flowed into him, from his chest, from his hands, from his lips.  Will tasted those lips, over and over, pushing into them while his heart beat faster.  He darted his tongue out and it was met, both eager to partake of each other.  The taste of Hannibal drowned him and he yearned for more.  He brought up his hands and wrapped them around Hannibal’s back, pulling him closer.

              The bulge between Hannibal’s legs was unmistakable as it pressed against Will’s own erection.  Heat flushed across Will’s skin and he ground forward, feeling Hannibal’s hardness press against him, eliciting a spike of desire through his blood.  A deep groan rumbled up from Hannibal’s chest and his arms pulled Will roughly to him.  Having newly experienced the thrill of letting go of his previous inhibitions, Will did it now with eagerness.  He ground again, then a third time, acting on his desires rather than fighting them.  He was going to drown in it. 

              They paused in their kisses to pant against each other’s lips.

              “What are you after, Will?”

              “Don’t play games with me, Hannibal.” he whispered.  “I’m not in the mood for games.”

              He slithered his hand around Hannibal’s waist and dragged it up the inside of his thigh, the hazy desire from finally giving in to what he wanted crashing over him in thicker and thicker waves.  When his fingers brushed over the lumps in their pants he felt Hannibal’s grip tighten in the back of his shirt. 

              Then he was pulling up, and Will’s shirt was removed over his head in one tug, tossed to the disgusting carpet, unwanted.  He moved to pull Hannibal’s away next, relishing that it was only a pull-over polo shirt and nothing more.  Their bare chests pressed together and a shudder sprang through Will as he felt the thick hairs on Hannibal’s body brush over his exposed skin.

              He pushed Hannibal back, toward the bed.  Hannibal was not the type of man to be pushed anywhere he didn’t want to go, and so the hazy glow Will found himself in grew brighter when he felt him move easily beneath Will’s direction.  Hannibal yanked the covers back, revealing the clean sheets he’d brought from home, and Will was now more grateful for them than ever.

              They lay beside each other, facing each other, Hannibal’s fingers stroking repeatedly through his hair as their lips came together again.  Will crushed himself as near to Hannibal as he could, needing to be close, drawing him in with both arms, one under his neck, the other over his side.  He lifted a leg over Hannibal’s and pulled him close that way, too; until there wasn’t an inch of air between them.  Will ground again, lust blooming through his brain, finally free and not willing to be tamed a moment longer.  He rocked his hips and felt Hannibal’s fingers sliding across his stomach, tracing the scar and tickling down to his fly.

              “Please.” Will said, and with the flick of a finger the button was undone.  Hannibal pulled down his fly and cupped him through his boxers, his hand rubbing warm and sure, making Will shudder as his fingers clutched at Hannibal’s back.  Hannibal slipped his hand in through the slit and pulled him free.  Will groaned, his lips faltering in his kisses as he forgot about them, though Hannibal still sucked upon his lips as if he were the grandest delicacy at his table.

              Will’s hand fumbled between them, undoing the button on Hannibal’s pants with far less grace and much more neediness.  Desperate and shivering, Will didn’t bother to remove any more clothes than he had to, untying the drawstring of Hannibal’s silk boxers and pulling them down just enough to reveal him.

              His flesh was hot in Will’s palm; firm and swollen to full hardness, which only sent a deeper blush to Will’s skin.  He was rocking his hips into Hannibal’s hand already, and moved faster when he felt his desire for him.

              “How long have you wanted me?” he managed to whisper, unable to keep his eyes from fluttering closed, overcome by heat and lust.

              “Since I first laid my eyes upon you.” Hannibal whispered into his lips, kissing them whether or not Will remembered to kiss back, his free hand still stroking through his curls.  “Though I didn’t dare admit it to myself until I saw you in Florence.  Then my heart swelled so greatly at the sight of you I could no longer deny it.”

              With a whimper that should have had him embarrassed, but didn’t at all, Will pulled his hips closer with the leg draped over Hannibal’s and shoved his hand away.  He took their lengths together in his hand and stroked, hearing the crack in Hannibal’s voice as he groaned with desire.  He started to rock into Will’s hand, rolling his hips to stroke their erections together, the heat between them making them both sweat, their skin flushed.

              Will squeezed harder, thrusting against Hannibal, fire blooming through his every nerve.  He moved his face to bury it in Hannibal’s shoulder, and he felt Hannibal’s teeth resting against his neck.  He groaned and pumped faster, precum from both of them slipping down to slick his palm, their bodies working hard to bring them pleasure.  Will pressed kisses into Hannibal’s neck and he gave him little nips in return, each one sending shudders down Will’s spine. 

              “Oh God, Hannibal.” he said, his voice cracking.  Hannibal’s arms tightened around his back and he swelled, then came, spilling himself over Hannibal as he quivered, golden honey clouding his vision and fogging his mind until he lost all thought.

              Will slipped out from his hand and continued to stroke Hannibal.  He felt him stiffen and the grip he held on Will’s body was painfully tight.  His teeth bit down harder against Will’s neck and with an almost inaudible sound he orgasmed, his hot release pouring over Will’s fingers and dripping to the bed.

              They remained tightly entangled, panting, clutching each other.  Will pulled his face back just enough to look into Hannibal’s eyes, glowing brightly beneath his disheveled hair that fell across his forehead.

              “Tell me again.” Will said.  “Tell me what you said in Florence.”

              Hannibal pulled his head back from Will’s neck to look into his face.  He reached up a hand to brush the strands from his eyes and studied them, his expression as serious and sincere as any Will had ever seen on him.

              “If I made love to you every day forever, Will, I would remember this time.” he said.  Will moved forward and crushed their lips together, unable to keep the tears from springing to his eyes or the single sob that heaved through his chest. 

              They lay together silently for a long time, Hannibal stroking his fingers through his hair, while slowly the world came back to them and Will remembered where they were.   He became aware of the sounds from the other rooms, which he had entirely tuned out, and laughed.

              “What has you so amused?” Hannibal asked, still stroking his fingers through his hair.

              “We really do belong here.” he said.

              “Hardly.” Hannibal replied, placing a kiss to his forehead.  “The passion we just shared is not experienced by the other inhabitants of this building.”

              Will pulled his head back further so he could see Hannibal’s entire face and drank it in.

              “No.” he said.  “Not even close.”

 

* * *

              Hannibal lay in the dark, perfectly still, observing the magnificent creature that breathed softly as it slept beside him for the third night in a row.  Will lay on his side, his hair cascading over his forehead in unruly curls, his stomach slowly rising with each inhale, falling with each exhale.  He was still shirtless, having bothered only to pull on a pair of boxers after their now regular nightly affections; not that Hannibal had fared much better, wearing only pajama bottoms and nothing else. 

              Will’s face was more serene than Hannibal could recall it ever being.  He lay on his side, facing Hannibal, one hand reached out towards him, and in the darkness Hannibal slowly, gently rested his palm across it, caressing it softly.

              Will stirred and his eyes fluttered open.  The gaudy light that shone through the crack in the curtains from the streetlamps illuminated his face just enough for Hannibal to watch the smile spread across his features, a comfortable, endearing smile that Hannibal could hardly believe was directed at him.

              “You can touch, you know.” Will said. 

              Hannibal’s heart swelled brightly, and he lifted his fingers, trembling towards Will’s cheek.  He brushed them softly over his warm skin, trying to keep his motions steady and failing.

              “I never dared dream this could be real.  You, slumbering beside me while we are both half-dressed, post-coital.”

              Will’s smile widened.

              “You make it sound so dirty.”

              “We are a mess.”

              Will turned his face into Hannibal’s palm and pursed his lips, pressing a kiss to it.

              “Would you like to shower?”

              Hannibal’s mind was so distracted by the casual, affectionate kiss that he was a bit sluggish in his reply.

              “Are you implying we should partake in this activity together?”

              He felt Will’s grin spread wide beneath his palm.

              “If you’d like.”

              His voice was sweet and thick, a tone in it that Hannibal had never heard from Will before, and it took him a moment to realize he was being _flirty_.

              “More than anything.”

              Will rose to his feet too quickly for Hannibal’s liking, leaving him cold and alone on the bed.  He stood with his back to Hannibal and turned his head over his shoulder, his eyes watching Hannibal as he pulled his boxers slowly over his hips, divesting himself of all clothing.  He tossed his boxers on the floor by the wall and walked into the bathroom where he flicked on the light and peered into the mirror.

              “You gave me a hickey.” he said, that flirtatious tone still present, and Hannibal found himself rising almost without thought to move closer to the gorgeous thing that stood under a single dim bulb in a dingy, poorly maintained bathroom.  Having never been one to deny himself in any capacity except when it came to Will Graham, and now suddenly having been given permission to deny himself that no longer, he went for exactly what he wanted.  He stood behind Will and slinked his arms around his stomach, pressing his chest tightly to his back as he leaned his head over his shoulder and placed his lips directly over the bruise forming on Will’s skin.

              “I should like to give you more.”

              He kissed and had the pleasure of feeling Will shiver beneath him.  He kissed again, then again, tasting the delicious skin before him, letting his tongue dart out to lick and taste.  Will groaned and tilted his head to the side, opening up for him, sliding his hands over Hannibal’s arms.

              “Look at you.  You’re so in love.” Will said.

              “Madly.” Hannibal replied, turning to suck along Will’s neck, marking him further. 

              “Easy with the marks.  I thought we weren’t supposed to be memorable.”

              “You are impossible to forget.” he said, moving his lips up to caress Will’s ear, gently pulling the lobe in between his teeth and nibbling on it.

              Will shivered again and his eyes fluttered closed.  Hannibal had the pleasure of watching his bare erection flush in the mirror, and he nibbled again, causing Will to groan and lean back against him.

              “You make me forget myself, Dr. Lecter.”

              “You seem to have a proclivity for my teeth.” he replied, unbelieving at his own words, astounded at the behavior he was suddenly capable of.  He had never had shame; but had always prided himself on his dignity.  Until Will Graham made him strip it away without a care.

              “I know where those teeth have been.” Will whispered.  “And what they’re capable of.”

              Hannibal bit just a little harder.  Will’s dick swelled to full attention, and Hannibal’s was having a similar reaction.  He pushed his clothed erection up against Will’s ass, squeezing his body to him with his arms, and Will moaned and pushed back against it.  Hannibal moved his hand down to take Will in his palm and stroked him, slowly rocking his hips forward into the warmth of Will’s ass.  Will moaned and pushed himself into Hannibal’s hand, tilting his head to the side to press his lips against his face.

              “Not fair, me being naked and you having pants on.”

              Hannibal rushed to yank his pajama pants from himself, letting them fall to the bathroom floor discarded.  He then pushed his body back up against Will’s hot skin, pressing him to the counter while his cock snugged itself between his ass cheeks and his chest crushed against Will’s back.  He wrapped his hand around Will again and began to stroke, Will’s gasp accompanied by a deep flush that sprang in his cheeks and spread down to his collar bone.

              Hannibal lifted his eyes to look at them in the mirror and was surprised by his own expression, more predatory and real than he was used to showing.  Will’s face was even more glorious; lost in rapture, pleasure etched across it as he groaned softly and rocked himself into Hannibal’s palm and then back against his swollen cock.

              “Tell me again, what you will do with him.” Hannibal whispered into his skin, feeling his heart beating faster just at the memory of Will describing his fantasy.

              “Mmm.  He likes to kill in pairs; two people who care for each other, and make them watch each other die.” Will said, his voice shaking as Hannibal stroked him.  “So I will do the same to him.  The person he cares for the most is himself, so he will be bound to a chair in front of a mirror, forced to watch himself as he dies.  My knife will slit his skin; his blood will begin as a trickle, then a dribble, then a stream that will pour over his flesh and drip onto the floor, all as he watches.”

              Hannibal’s movements grew more erratic, his hand pumping Will faster, his hips rubbing himself against Will’s ass with more roughness and less finesse.  His eyes met Will’s in the mirror and he smiled dreamily at him, soft pants coming from between his lips as he rocked back against Hannibal’s flesh.

              “Then it will become a river, and when I am ready we will strike together, both our knives taking his life at the same moment, leaving his carcass to rot in pools of his own blood while his dead eyes continue to look at his reflection.”

              Hannibal cried out louder than he’d intended, his orgasm nearly surprising him as he spilled himself onto Will’s lower back.  His entire body trembled and he clutched Will to him, his teeth buried in Will’s shoulder so deeply they drew blood.  Will’s reaction was to groan and lean back against him, thrusting himself into Hannibal’s hand faster.  Hannibal’s knees were weak but he forced himself to stand, drawing Will closer to his pleasure until he trembled, his released splashing over the countertop and into the grimy sink.

              Hannibal pulled his hand away and wrapped it back around Will’s stomach, neither caring about the mess, both breathing in heaving pants.  Will’s eyes met his in the mirror again, then darted to the reflection of his shoulder, where the impression of Hannibal’s teeth started to ooze red.

              “I hadn’t intended…” Hannibal began.

              Will whirled around and crushed their lips together, eagerly lapping at the blood on Hannibal’s lips, sucking his lips into his mouth, caressing his tongue.  Hannibal returned his passion eagerly, entwining his fingers into Will’s hair as he tasted him, licking along his tongue, savoring his flavor.

              Will pulled back, breathless.

              “I see you, Hannibal Lecter.” he said, reaching up to cup his palm to Hannibal’s face.  “I see you as you really are, and I am in love with you for it.  Don’t you forget that.”


	4. Chapter 4

              It was the eighth night of their sitting in the run-down diner.  Will’s target, Bernard, as they had learned, came in every night just past one o’clock in the morning and ordered the same meal of eggs and toast.  They now knew everything they needed to know about him in order to properly end him, fully within their control and to Will’s every desire.  What he ate, where he lived, how he spent his time.  His apartment was a single room in a run-down building only three blocks away, and when Will had announced that was where he’d like to kill him, Hannibal approved, not without a little pride at how well he was taking to the task at hand. 

              Hannibal stirred his spoon in the terrible coffee while Will watched their target out of the corner of his eye.  He’d managed to subsist thus far on fresh fruit from a corner market about half a mile from their hotel, but late nights accompanied by exhaustion from his and Will’s new physical relationship made his need for coffee great enough that he drank the swill that the diner served.  It was warm, if nothing else.

              Hannibal was mildly enjoying the challenging crossword puzzle in the newspaper when he saw Will grow rigid.

              “He’s chosen.” he said. 

              The only indication Hannibal gave that he’d heard him was to lower the paper to the table.

              “Scruffy father and his teenage daughter, sitting near the side door.  They have the strained but loving relationship he looks for.  They most likely just had an argument.  He’s staring at them, his eyes darting from the father to the daughter to the father…”

              Hannibal watched Will’s fingers clasp the edge of the table, his fingers shaking with the effort of keeping himself calm.

              “His desire to harm them angers you.” Hannibal said softly, in English.  He rather enjoyed hearing Will speak in French and found himself encouraging it quite often, but for sensitive conversation such as this, it was best to make being overheard difficult.

              “There are plenty of people in this world who don’t deserve their life.” Will said.  “But this family isn’t one of them.”

              Hannibal tilted his head slightly.

              “You take great offense at harm coming to families.”

              Will clutched the table harder.

              “Yes.”

              There were, of course, a thousand questions Hannibal had about the matter, which he would press Will on later.  But right now was not the moment.

              “How much time do we have to get ready?” Hannibal asked.  They had discussed this part of the plan at length.  All of their supplies were left in the hotel room, packed, ready to go.  Once Will was certain Bernard had chosen, they would return to their hotel and gather their things, then would wait outside within viewing distance of the diner.  When Bernard left the diner to stalk his prey, Will and Hannibal would trail behind him.  Hannibal would wait for Will to decide when and where to proceed.

              “They just ordered.  At least thirty minutes.” he said.

              Hannibal nodded once.

              “Let us prepare, then.” Hannibal said, rising to his feet and offering Will his hand.

              To his delight, Will took it.  Whether it was because he was preoccupied or not, Hannibal was uncertain, but it made his heart flicker with affection anyway.  He entwined their fingers as they left, leaving payment on the table and earning him a smile from the waitress, who had become quite taken with the quiet couple who always sat at the back corner table.

              “I’ll wait out here.” Will said when they arrived at their hotel, just across the street.  “On the small chance he leaves early.”

              Hannibal nodded once and leaned over to give Will a peck on his cheek.  He accepted it, and even leaned into it, sparking more flutters in Hannibal’s heart. 

              “You have your knife with you?” he asked.

              “Yes, dear.” Will said, and Hannibal found himself curling his fingers under Will’s chin, greatly enjoying when he allowed his face to be tilted upward by them.

              “I could not bear if any harm were to come to you.” he said.

              At that Will raised an eyebrow and brushed his hair back from his forehead, revealing the scar there.

              “Glad you’ve changed your mind about that.”

              Hannibal leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Will’s scar, before turning and forcing himself to keep a leisurely pace as he walked up the steps into the hotel.

              Bernard kept to Will’s predictions, however, and he and Hannibal were prepared when he followed the father and his daughter out of the diner.  It was a short walk to the small family’s apartment building, a mere two blocks.  Hannibal hung back, watching Will watch his prey, delighted to see how well Will took to the shadows to remain out of sight.

              When the father and girl disappeared into their building, Bernard waited for a few moments before he moved, most likely to allow them to get settled into their apartment.  When he did move, so did Will, quick and lithe and silent along the sidewalk, catching up to Bernard just as he ascended the steps to the door of the building.

              Will was behind him with his knife pressed firmly against his back, hard enough to make its sharpness felt through the coat.  Hannibal’s heartbeat grew stronger as he watched Will whisper something into his ear, Will’s face as calm and placid as stone.  Hannibal remained hidden while he observed Will guide Bernard back down the steps and along the street towards his own apartment, the hunter now the hunted, nervous and halting in his steps.  Hannibal followed behind them silently, remaining in darkness, carrying their extra supplies, ready if Will needed him.  But so far he hadn’t needed any assistance at all, and watching him entrap his prey was making Hannibal’s blood grow warm.

              They arrived at Bernard’s apartment, and Hannibal watched him halt as Will tried to guide him up the stairs.  It seemed he had just realized that Will knew where he lived, which meant it was dawning on him just how much danger he was really in.  Hannibal tensed and inched himself closer, knife in hand, ready to spring should anything go amiss.  Bernard’s survival instincts would be starting to kick in and there was no predicting what a creature that thought it was in danger was capable of.

              Bernard tried to turn and push his way past Will, back down the stairs, but Will was quicker.  Before he’d even fully spun around Will moved the knife from his back to his throat, the metal flashing in the streetlamp before the blade settled against soft flesh.

              “I’d rather not kill you in the street, but I will if I must.” Will said, his voice commanding and sharp, not a hint of waver in it.  Hannibal felt his blood rush through his body, his heart beating faster with excitement.  He may even have licked his lips.

              Bernard fumbled with his keys and managed to wrangle the door open.  They slipped inside and Hannibal was quick to follow, slinking in just before the door closed and locked again.

              They had surveyed this building several times on previous days, after having followed Bernard here.  They knew which door was his, third on the left on the second floor.  They knew that the room to the right of his was unoccupied and that the one to the left housed a frail old woman who was very unlikely to cause them trouble, and would be easily handled if she tried.

              Bernard’s hands shook as he attempted to get his keys into the lock.  When he finally pushed the door open he attempted to get behind it and slam it in Will’s face—but Will was prepared.  His foot was already blocking the door from closing and he shouldered his way in, unhesitating in his actions, sure and confident in what he wanted.  Hannibal was torn about whether he should follow.  It was clear Will didn’t need his help and he didn’t want to interfere with his first kill free of strings.  That desire contrasted with his own need to observe what was going to be a beautiful, defining moment in Will’s life.

              Will pushed Bernard further into the apartment, the sound of the man stumbling echoing off the bare walls in the dirty hall.  The sound of their scuffle faded as they moved further into the room, and Hannibal’s blood grew hot as he saw that Will left the door open.

              For him.

              His vision not nearly as clear as it should be, Hannibal stepped silently through it and closed it softly behind him, ensuring that he locked it.

              Bernard’s eyes locked onto Hannibal’s face.  He watched him consider crying out for help for a brief moment; but Hannibal’s expression dashed that ridiculous idea before the man even acted on it. 

              “Who’s he?  Who’re you?” Bernard asked, his eyes darting between two merciless faces, trying to discern who he had angered enough to send someone to kill him.  “I don’t have anything to steal, but you can take what you want…”

              Will’s hand shot out and clasped tightly around Bernard’s throat.  He grew angry and swung his fists immediately, causing Will to have to duck and step back.  He raised the knife again but Bernard kept swinging even as Will slashed at him, cutting the fabric of his sleeves, then nicking his arm.  Will wasn’t timid or indecisive in his movements; rather he was carefully attacking only Bernard’s arms, enough to keep him back, but not going in for the kill, although he had an opening several times.

              He wasn’t killing him because he wasn’t ready.  He was _playing_ with him.

              Hannibal couldn’t quite keep the smile from pricking at the corner of his lips.

              Bernard got in a swing and clocked Will on the side of the head.  Hannibal tensed again, ready to strike, but Will steadied himself and swung his arm in a wide arc, plunging the blade straight down into his enemy’s shoulder.

              Bernard screamed and stumbled back.  Will yanked his knife free, never once having let his grip on his blade falter.  Bernard then turned to run, only to find Hannibal standing between him and the door.

              “There’s nowhere for you to go.” Hannibal said, reaching out to clasp Bernard’s shoulders, making him scream again.  Will walked over to the table—the only piece of furniture in the room besides the bed—and grabbed the one wooden chair, setting it down behind Bernard with a loud thud.

              “Sit.” he commanded.

              Hannibal helped Bernard sit, pushing down on his shoulders until he collapsed into the chair.  Will’s hands slid over his, the blood that seeped up between his fingers slicking the back of his hand as it coated Will’s palm.  His eyes were drawn to it, and it was all Hannibal could do to keep from getting distracted by the enchanted look on Will’s face, and the feel of his warm, bloody palm sliding against his hand.

              He pulled slowly away and let Will hold his captive down instead.

              “I’m ready for the rope now.” he said.

              Bernard’s face twisted in confusion as Hannibal nodded and walked over to their bag of supplies.  He purposefully allowed the metal tools within to clink as he withdrew the rope, enjoying the terrified look that came over Bernard as he heard it. 

              “What do you _want_? Who _are_ you?” he cried again, only to find Will’s knife at his throat.

              “I suggest you remain quiet.” Will said, his voice chillingly calm.

              The heat building in Hannibal’s blood grew hotter.

              They switched again, Hannibal holding Bernard down by his shoulders while Will tied him, his bloodied hands slinking ever so close to Hannibal’s torso as he worked, wrapping the rope around Bernard’s middle, then wrists as he tied them behind the back, then ankles as he tied them to the chair.  When he was finished Hannibal stepped back and admired the work of his devious boy.  Their captive struggled almost immediately, attempting to break free, but Will’s bonds were secure.  The flush in  Hannibal’s body grew warm enough to show in his cheeks.

              “Gag, please.” Will said, not taking his eyes away from Bernard as he slowly circled him; a lion waiting for the perfect moment to strike.  Hannibal rummaged through their bag of supplies and held out a strip of cloth, which Will twisted and shoved into Bernard’s mouth, tying it tightly behind his head with a rough jerk.

              Will then spun around and straddled Bernard, sitting on his lap.  He brought his face in close enough that Bernard tried to headbutt him, only to have his head yanked back as Will twisted his fingers into his hair.  He brought the tip of the knife up to Bernard’s nose, where his eyes became crossed trying to follow it.

              “I’ll bet you’re wondering what’s going on.” Will said, and Bernard nodded until Will yanked his hair again, keeping him still.  “Well, Bernard.  Today’s your lucky day.  Today you get to experience what it’s like to be part of your own design.”

              Will then got up and walked over to their bag of supplies, pulling out the large, cheap plastic table mirror they had purchased. 

              “Hannibal, would you bring the table over here, please?” he asked, in the same tone he used when he asked Hannibal to pass the salt.  The sound of his voice alighted on Hannibal’s ears and pricked the tips of them red.  He nodded and tried his best to remain composed as he lifted the small wobbly table and set it down a few feet in front of Bernard.

              Will set the mirror upon it, carefully adjusting the stand until he had it just right, eyeing Bernard several times while he perfected the angle.  He walked behind the chair and leaned his head down over Bernard’s shoulder, looking over at the mirror.

              “Just making sure you can see yourself.” Will said.  He turned his face so that he was whispering in Bernard’s ear.  “Since it’s so very, very important to you that when you kill them, the person they love most is watching.”

              Dawning spread over Bernard’s face as excitement prickled down Hannibal’s spine.  He screamed as loud as a gagged man could scream and started thrashing, jerking the rickety chair enough that the wood started to splinter.

              Will’s fingers yanked his head up by his hair once again and he held his head still, the tip of the knife pressing against his throat.  He stilled, his nostrils flaring with breath, his eyes staring at Will with terror.

              Will slowly dragged the knife down Bernard’s body, over his throat, down his chest, the tip of the blade slicing holes in his shirt as he went.  When he reached his stomach he stopped.

              “It’s very important that you watch.” Will said.  He jerked Bernard’s head by his hair again, looking in the mirror, showing Bernard what he was to do.  “If you watch, I _may_ let you die faster. Now watch.  Look in the mirror, come on.”

              His voice was smooth and gentle, a tone Hannibal had heard from Will only a handful of times, mostly when he was talking to dogs.  Now he was using it to torment a victim, and all the excitement that had been prickling through Hannibal’s body buzzed in his blood and pooled in his groin. 

              “There you go.” Will said, when Bernard finally looked at Will in the mirror, and their eyes met.

              Will pushed the blade into Bernard’s stomach, slowly.  Bernard screamed and struggled, but Will didn’t lose his grip on either his hair or the knife.  He pushed it in until the hilt rested against Bernard’s stomach and he stilled, his breath hissing as it forced it way through his nose.  Blood seeped out of the wound and began to soak into the fabric of Bernard’s shirt.

              Will pulled the blade out as slowly as he’d pushed it in, the blood gushing forth from the wound now, spilling down over Bernard’s thighs to splash on the floor.  Will raised the tip of the blade and moved it up a few inches, then pushed it back in again, just as slowly as before.  Bernard struggled more frantically, though his screams had ceased, his nose now struggling only to bring him breath.  Will removed the knife and dragged it down Bernard’s side, pushing it slowly into his liver.  His struggles grew weak and Will let go of his hair, allowing his head to loll to the side.

              “Keep watching.” Will said into his ear, plunging the blade in a fourth time.

              Hannibal’s eyes were transfixed.  He had never seen anything so captivating in all his life.  He was enraptured with Will’s face, utterly delighted in pleasured bliss, his eyes fluttering halfway closed as he pushed the blade into his victim each time.  Hannibal studied his hand, now entirely slicked with blood, fingers still wrapped tightly around the handle of the blade, his grip strong enough to keep the blood from seeping fully under his fingers and loosening it.

              At some point Bernard stopped struggling, and a moment later, stopped breathing.  Yet Will continued to stab him, agonizingly slowly, using both hands now to drive the blade into the body beneath him.  On the last push he closed his eyes, _feeling_ the metal part the flesh, pushing the knife in deep, where he let go and rose to his full height.

              The expression he wore when he turned to face Hannibal was nothing short of sublime.  He opened his eyes and met Hannibal’s gaze, walking towards him with purposeful steps, hands and torso drenched in blood.  Hannibal dared not move.

              Will stopped inches from his face, so close that his breath washed over his lips.

              “Your mouth is gaping.” he whispered.

              “I have never beheld such exquisite beauty in all my life.” he managed to whisper.  “The only thing more glorious would be to experience death at your hands myself.”

              A smile pricked the corner of Will’s mouth, making his cheeks rise unevenly, highlighting his scar.  He lifted a blood-drenched hand and brought his fingers to Hannibal’s face, caressing his cheek.

              “Are you jealous of my victim, Hannibal?”

              His lips were so close when he said it that all Hannibal breathed was Will, and his voice faltered.  He couldn’t answer.  He didn’t trust it.

              “You _are_.” Will said, moving his lips even closer.  “Do you want me to penetrate you with my knife?” Will teased, brushing their lips ever so lightly together, so that Hannibal exhaled more heavily than he’d intended.

              “I understand your innuendo, and to both meanings I reply _yes_.”

              Will’s lips crushed against his hard, pushing Hannibal back into the wall.  He was helpless under the pressure of Will Graham, his body pushing roughly against him, revealing quite plainly his arousal as it pressed up against Will’s crotch.  He smiled against Hannibal’s lips and ground forward, causing an involuntary moan to escape Hannibal’s lips.  He kissed Will back fervently, wrapping his arms tightly around him, feeling the blood smear over his arms as he pulled him close.

              Will pulled back, leaving Hannibal breathless and weak in the knees, hardly able to stand.

              “Help me clean up.”  Will said, his voice no less teasing.  “So I can give you what you’ve asked for.”

              Hannibal had to use every ounce of restraint he had to keep from rushing through the removal of the evidence.  It wouldn’t do to risk getting caught now; not when he had so much to live for.

             


	5. Chapter 5

              Normally the effort required to properly clean up after a murder left Hannibal tired to exhaustion.  But this night he was invigorated, and the feeling only intensified as he watched Will work; wearing the gloves they’d brought, wiping down the surfaces of the table and chair and anything else they’d touched.  His work was impeccable, knowing the way police processed a crime scene and exactly what to do to avoid leaving any traceable evidence.

              But more than that was the way he kept glancing back at his work; the way he continually re-adjusted the mirror, the ropes, the position of the head.  Hannibal’s blood only burned hotter as he watched Will take such _care_ in his design.  The murder alone hadn’t been enough.  He was leaving a specific scene for the police to find, and Hannibal found it difficult to even move as he watched Will work.

              He was still dazed with affection when they left, hoping that Will had been more level-headed in paying attention to detail, because for the first time since he was young, it was entirely possible that he’d missed something.  Will gave him provocative glances as they walked the two blocks back to their hotel in the dead of night, having changed clothes and scrubbed the blood from their hands. Hannibal could do little else but stare back, his gaze enraptured by the creature that walked beside him, his attention entirely occupied.

              When they reached the 24-hour corner store, Will turned to go in.  Hannibal paused.

              “It would be unwise to be seen on any security cameras in the vicinity.” he said.

              “I’ve been shopping here all week.” Will said, a suggestive hint in his voice “for the exact reason that they don’t have one.  But you can stay out here.”

              Hannibal opened his mouth to protest again, but Will turned and stepped into the store before he had a chance to say anything else.

              Will emerged not five minutes later, lifted the small paper bag he held, and pushed it against Hannibal’s chest until he clasped it.

              “I fully intend to make good on my promise.” he said, giving Hannibal a light peck on the cheek.  “This was all they had, so no complaining.”

              He glanced inside to find a box of lubricated condoms.  It was the only purchase.

              They entered the hotel through the maintenance entrance, having jammed the lock on it open days ago in preparation.  They walked up the stairs to their rooms in silence, but the moment their door was closed behind them, Hannibal could no longer contain his jubilation.

              “Brilliant.  Utterly brilliant.” he said, letting their bag of murder supplies fall unwanted to the floor, setting the _other_ bag on top of the shabby dresser.  He placed his palms on Will’s cheeks and leaned towards his lips, eagerly met.  He couldn’t keep from replaying Will’s murder in his mind as they kissed, hearing Will’s voice as he commanded his victim, soft and patient and deadly.  It made his heart race with excitement such that he was unable to contain it.  He pulled back from the kiss and their heavy breaths washed over each other’s faces, Will’s cheeks pink and rosy.  His eyes flashed with heat and he raised an eyebrow, tilting his head towards the bed.

              He slid his fingers down Hannibal’s arm and entwined their fingers, leading him.  Will turned and clasped the bottom of his shirt, pulling it easily over Hannibal’s head.  For possibly the first time, Hannibal discovered there _was_ a benefit to a t-shirt and jeans after all—their quick and easy removal.

              It was impossible for him to keep his hands from Will.  Once they were naked he touched him everywhere; his shoulders, his neck, his ears, trailing his palms over his warm skin, feeling the hairs rise beneath his touch.  Their erections rubbed against each other and Hannibal pulled him closer, leaving no space between their bodies as his lips sought to taste Will once more.

              They moved to the bed in synchrony, their love-making still new, but familiar, now.  Hannibal traced his fingers along Will’s sides, across his stomach, over his hip.  Dried blood flecked from his skin as he did so and it only served to heighten Hannibal’s arousal, making him nearly pant into Will’s mouth as he closed his eyes and watched his murder again.

              “I cannot stop staring in wonderment at your performance.” Hannibal breathed, his voice raspy through his lust.  Will’s mouth left his and moved to his neck, where he set kiss after kiss, then sucked his skin into his mouth, making Hannibal groan.  “I have never beheld such glory in my life.”

              Will rolled on top of him, and Hannibal wrapped his arms tightly around his back.  He held him close while Will sucked his way down his neck, then across his clavicle, dragging his tongue in long licks, tasting Hannibal without hesitation.  Hannibal’s fingers entwined into his hair as he curled his body lower, not uttering a word, his mouth entirely occupied by Hannibal’s skin. 

              He dragged his tongue over a nipple and Hannibal’s breath hitched.  He held it until Will’s teasing forced a moan out of him, and then he surrendered to it, allowing Will’s mouth to bring him pleasure; allowing the pleasure to reach him deeply.  His eyes were tied to Will’s body, tracing over it; admiring his curls, his muscular shoulders, the curve of his ass as it raised a bit while he slipped lower down Hannibal’s body.

              “Will.” Hannibal breathed, and he’d intended to say more, but that was all his brain could muster.  Will’s mouth reached the tip of his erection and sucked him in.  Hannibal’s head fell back to the pillow as a deep groan escaped him, his fingers tightening in Will’s hair.  Hot pleasure rushed through his cock to his veins, making his entire body glow.  Long moans left him unhindered now, Will’s mouth sucking over the tip of his cock, his mind becoming more lost by the moment.  When he noticed himself rocking up, pushing himself into Will, and Will welcoming him, he couldn’t even feel shame at the loss of his control.

              “Will.” he said again, no other words coming close to what he was trying to say; all the vocabulary of the English language, and the French language, and every language, was insufficient.  Will sucked Hannibal deep into his mouth and he groaned, rocking his hips, feeling Will’s drool slip down his length and pool on his pelvis. 

              Will pulled his mouth away and languidly ran his tongue down the side of Hannibal’s erection, his eyes darting up to meet his face.  Hannibal could feel his cheeks burning; could feel the fire pricking his ears and simmering his blood.  He was spreading his legs before Will even had a chance to push his knees apart, never having been so desperate for someone in his life.  Will’s tongue was a teasing wisp of desire as he dragged it under his scrotum and to his anus, where without any of the hesitation Hannibal had expected, he licked.

              Hannibal’s toes curled as he was nearly tickled, but he at least had enough self-control left not to jerk his entire body.  Will’s hands spread over his thighs and he licked again, then a third time, his drool covering Hannibal’s skin, the sensitivity of his flesh growing as blood rushed to where Will’s tongue stimulated him.  By the fourth lick he was becoming lost again, the glow that had been in his dick now moving elsewhere, heat and need flushing through him as he opened himself up to Will Graham.

              When Will rose to his knees Hannibal could do little else but stare at the glorious creature settled between his legs.  Will was beauty itself; from his perfect face to his angelic hair to the flecks of dried blood that speckled his skin.  When he raised his first two fingers to his mouth and pushed them in, imitating what he had done to Hannibal’s cock, all he could do was helplessly watch from behind half-lidded eyes.

              He would let Will do anything to him.  He would let him kill him.

              The idea set Hannibal’s heart racing, and when Will pushed his finger up against Hannibal’s hole he groaned and tilted his chin into the air.  Will pressed into him and he closed his eyes, watching him invade Bernard’s body with the knife.  

              “You’re watching me kill him again, aren’t you?” Will asked, his voice silky and deep. 

              Hannibal could only groan as Will slowly pulled his finger out and pushed it back in, _exactly_ in the manner he had stabbed Bernard; slowly, relentlessly.

              “Yes.” Hannibal confessed, feeling his body be penetrated by Will, his eyes fluttering open to see his face, only to find it gazing down at him with affection.

              “Watching me push the knife into his body.” Will said, pushing his finger into Hannibal, feeling his way, learning what the inside of him felt like.    
              “Yes.” Hannibal said, a soft moan interrupting the one word he’d attempted to speak as Will pulled out nearly fully, then set his second finger alongside the first.

              “You were jealous.” Will said.  “Jealous for this.”

              He pushed both fingers in, then, and Hannibal’s moan was nothing short of obscene.  He saw Will’s face delight in his response, his eyes tracing over Hannibal’s body, taking in the flush that now bloomed across his chest.  He continued to push into Hannibal with tortuous slowness, easing his way in at his own pace, enjoying the responses Hannibal was giving him.

              He slid his way out fully and their eyes met.  Will rose, the coldness of the air where he had been making bumps rise on Hannibal’s skin.  He walked over to the bag, the sound of the paper rustling as he opened the box.  His back was to Hannibal as he tore the condom open and worked himself up to full hardness, and had Hannibal more words available to him, he would have complained. 

              But Will returned shortly, the warmth of him returning to Hannibal and he settled back into his place between his legs.

              “How eager are you for this?” Will asked, his voice still maddeningly teasing. 

              Hannibal tried to speak and found his voice dry.  He worked his tongue and swallowed.

              “Very.”

              Will’s answering smile set his heart alight.

              There was a moment of awkwardness while Will found his way; Hannibal lifting his hips and Will parting his flesh with his fingers, which was now difficult because of the lubricant.  Then his thumb pushed into Hannibal, followed by the tip of his cock, and he pushed with more certainty than Hannibal had expected.

              His breath faltered as Will pushed into him, then came back to him in fast, short puffs.  It was decades since he’d done this, and those memories hardly compared.  The experience was entirely new as for the first time in his life, he was fully invested in it; heart included.

              Will sank slowly into him and he felt himself spread open, being filled.  His body was no longer his own; there was another in it; another who was still covered in the blood of the last body he had invaded.  Hannibal melted under him, his joints becoming the finest butter, hardly a solid and then losing its integrity at the slightest touch of heat.

              Oh, and was Will Graham heat.  His eyes were closed now, leaving Hannibal to see the beauty of his face, entwined by pleasure, his jaw set as his shoulders shook from it.  The heat of his balls rested against Hannibal’s skin and he stilled, his fingers pressing into Hannibal’s thighs as he held their bodies close.

              Will opened his eyes and Hannibal met his gaze.

              He turned his face then and planted a soft, gentle kiss against Hannibal’s knee.  Then another, then a third, never taking his eyes from Hannibal’s face.

              “There’s no need to be jealous, Hannibal.” Will said.  He shifted and leaned forward, putting his hands flat on the bed on either side of Hannibal, bending his knees to get better leverage.  He pulled out slowly, too slowly, frustratingly slowly. 

              When he stopped and began to push back in, Hannibal moaned, his voice not caring for his desire to keep composure.  He opened up fully and gave no resistance, then had the lovely experience of seeing his pleasure reflected on Will’s face.

              Will pulled back faster this time and pushed in harder.  The desire he felt was clearly evident and his next push in was even faster.  He started to rock at a regular pace, his eyes closed, his face burning pink.

              “Oh, fuck.” he said, the teasing gone from his expression, replaced by want.  “Fuck.”

              Hannibal tried to say something smarter, but all that came out was “Yes.”

              Will thrust.  Pleasure sprang through every one of his nerves, and a cry left Hannibal’s lips.  Will thrust again and then again, snapping his hips forward, and Hannibal opened for him, spreading his legs, needing him deeper, wanting him closer.

              Will fucked him and he moaned for it, lifting his hands to wrap them over Will’s shoulders, curling his fingers to pull him close.  He raised his hips and met him, rocking up into him in rhythm, the heat of their coupling singing through his body and rushing through his veins, pounding in his ears, deafening him.  The feel and sound and smell of Will overwhelmed him, drowning out the world, leaving him with nothing but Will.

              “Will, Will, Will…” he said on every thrust in, feeling Will fill him, take him, own him.  He had given himself completely and it was more beautiful than he’d ever hoped for.

              The bed started to creak and yet Will rocked harder, his eyes opening to meet Hannibal’s as sweat formed along his brow.  He pounded relentlessly, _needing_ , his eyes burning with passion and want.  Still their eyes remained locked, and Will leaned down to press a kiss to Hannibal’s lips, before he rose back onto his knees to fuck him harder.

              Will’s head fell and his fingers moved to curl against Hannibal’s hips.  He pulled their bodies closer, every muscle they both had straining to make them joined.  With every pound in Hannibal felt sparks fly through his nerves, making them sing.  He saw only Will’s face; heard only his voice, felt only his body. 

              Will reached down and wrapped his fingers around Hannibal’s perfectly hard erection, and he gasped.  The sensation was overwhelming.  His vision blurred and he shut his eyes as Will pumped him and fucked him, his thrusts becoming erratic and forceful.  Hannibal flushed with understanding and allowed himself to succumb, the pleasure boiling over and rising to the top as he heard Will cry out from his orgasm.  His body shuddered and his hand shook uncontrollably, reminding Hannibal of the first time he'd ever held Will—when he’d had a seizure at his table, all those years ago.

              Hannibal removed Will’s hand from him and replaced it with his own, feeling Will’s body starting to calm.  He closed his eyes and thought about Will murdering Bernard again; replaying it in his mind, Will sliding the knife in deep, taking his pleasure in removing Bernard’s life.  His face was rapturous, and then he turned away from his dead prey to look at Hannibal.  Hannibal opened his eyes and saw Will looking at him now, and he was overwhelmed.

              Pleasure sprang through him, racing through his blood and making his skin tingle.  A cry escaped him and he shook, his release spilling over his hand to cover his stomach, his eyes still captured by Will’s face, his nostrils flaring as he tried to obtain enough breath.  It lasted far longer than he was used to, and in fact he wasn’t entirely sure when it was over, as it slowly faded rather than crashing as it normally did.

              When his hand finally collapsed to the side of him, Will leaned forward and lay upon his chest, the heat of his body enveloping Hannibal as their lips met once again.

              Will continued to shiver and Hannibal wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly, holding him close.

              “My beloved.” Hannibal said, and Will only nodded, his face buried in his neck, his body held in his arms.

 

              The train ride back to their house in the countryside was far more pleasant than the one they’d taken there.  That trip had been full of apprehension.  This one was full of a comfortable ease and warm affection, one that Hannibal was delighted to discover Will wasn’t afraid to show in public.  They sat beside each other rather than across, Will’s head resting upon Hannibal’s shoulder while he stared out the window at the passing farms.  The evidence of their activities was all packed up neatly into the luggage on the rack above them, waiting to be burned when they returned home.

              “Did you enjoy our first trip together?” Hannibal asked, knowing that a full conversation would of course have to wait until they were home, and away from prying ears, but unable to help himself.  It seemed that a lot of that was happening lately.  He didn’t expect, nor want, it to stop.  He was finding that losing his control when it came to Will was a delectable way to live.

              “It was a lovely honeymoon.” Will said.  “Absolutely perfect.”

              Hannibal’s heart leapt at the word.

              “Is that what it was?”

              Will snorted.

              “You can’t pretend it was anything else.  It was full of consummation, wasn’t it?”

              Hannibal felt things stir within him at the truth of those words; things that he had no power to act upon while riding a public train.

              “It was.” he admitted, pulling the arm he had around Will’s shoulders a bit tighter.  “Though I might enjoy us trying to outdo ourselves on our next vacation.”

              He held his breath with trepidation, never before having been so casual or direct in asking Will if he wanted to murder with him.

              “I’d enjoy that.” Will said, turning to plant a kiss on Hannibal’s cheek.  “I hope there are a lot of vacations in our future.  We might even bring home souvenirs from them.  For dinner.”

              Hannibal turned and pressed a rough, lewd kiss to Will’s mouth, no longer caring for the stares from the people in the seats near them.  When he pulled back he was pleased to see Will’s cheeks were flushed pink, and he lifted his fingers to brush them across his cheek.

              “Allow me one concession?” he asked, and Will gave a short laugh and rolled his eyes.

              “ _One_?  Do you know yourself?”

              Hannibal tightened his grip on Will’s cheek to emphasize his sincerity, and Will settled down.

              “I’m listening.”

              “Let me buy you a ring.” he said, his gaze burning into Will’s as he said it, his heart beating faster than he’d ever expected it to, should he ever decide to propose.

              “Fine.  But not gold.” Will said, and Hannibal easily conceded.

              “Platinum, then.”

              Will laughed again, and Hannibal was reveling in how much he enjoyed the sound, and how frequently he supposed he was going to hear it.

              “Sure.  But now that you got a concession, I get one.”

              Hannibal held his breath as he already knew what was coming.

              “I want a second dog.”


End file.
